Stefan Van từ Terzone RI, Italy

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04/28/2024

Dữ liệu người dùng, đánh giá và đề xuất cho sách

Stefan Van Sách lại (10)

2019-05-01 03:31

Bộ Luật Hình Sự Của Nước Cộng Hòa Xã Hội Chủ Nghĩa Việt Nam (Đã Được Sửa Đổi, Bổ Sung) Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi: Luật Gia Hoàng Anh

Murakami's novels are always a little hard to get through, because they are rather long, and more often than not, very little actually happens throughout them. They are full of a myriad of tedious details, illogical plot twists, and unbelievable happenings. However despite all of this, I find them to be amazing novels that affect me on a level very different than the average book. Kafka on the Shore was no exception, and listening to it in audiobook form only helped to enhance the experience. I feel that Murakami takes a combination of both a Shinto and Zen experience, and spins it into a tangible form. The large amount of detail used to describe the scenes, settings, and actions of the characters creates an amazing sense of reality. It's almost as if the plot and the things that the characters learn are inconsequential, while the experience and sense of the present is of utmost importance. I'm not sure exactly how to relate the hypnotic spell that Murakami weaves, but the temperature, quality, smell, sense, and taste of the world we live in is reflected in his writing. It's as if the book presents all of these mundane details so that they can be noted, experienced, and appreciated. I'm not sure if anyone else gets the same thing out of his writing. It is a bit weird, quirky, and sometimes even disturbing. Not everything is meant to be taken logically in the book. Plot, characters, and themes don't always play out in a logical fashion, but I think the everything is meant to be taken in a more spiritual, less causual sense.

2019-05-01 08:31

Đông Y Thường Thức - Vị Thuốc Và Các Bài Thuốc Hay Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn

Sách được viết bởi Bởi: Hoàng Khánh Toàn

** spoiler alert ** It sort of rambled. Zorba was a cool guy. I don't really know what Ferris saw in it. I mean, maybe I do, but I don't think it deserved the praise he gave it. Ok, so I'm starting to get why he liked this book. The quotes rule. Zorba really embodies alot of what Ferris represents. Quotes: "Two equally steep and bold paths may lead to the same peak. To act as if death did not exist, or to act thinking every minute of death, is perhaps the same thing." "He interrogates himself with the same amazement when he sees a man, a tree in blossom, a glass of cold water. Zorba sees everything every day as if for the first time." "What were we saying the say before yesterday, boss? You were saying you wanted to open the people's eyes. All right, you just go and open old uncle Anagnosti's eyes for him! You saw how his wife had to behave before him, waiting for his orders, like a dog begging. Just go now and teach them that women have equal rights with men, and that it's cruel to eat a piece of the pig while the pig's still raw and groaning in front of you, and that it's simple lunacy to give thanks to God because he's got everything while you're starving to death! What good'll that poor devil Anagnosti get out of all your explanatory humbug? You'd only cause him a lot of bother. And what'd old mother Anagnosti get out of it? The fat would be in the fire: family rows would start, the hen would want to be cock, the couple would just have a good set-to and make their feathers fly...! Let people be, boss; don't open their eyes. And supposing you did, what'd they see? Their misery! Leave their eyes closed, boss, and let them go on dreaming!...Unless when they open their eyes you can show them a better world than the darkness in which they're gallivanting at present...Can you?" "I did not know. I was fully aware of what would be destroyed. I did not know what would be built out of the ruins. No one can know that with any degree of certainty, I thought. The old world is tangible, solid, we live in it and are struggling with it every moment - it exists. The world of the future is not yet born, it is elusive, fluid, made of the light from which dreams are woven; it is a cloud buffeted by violent winds - love, hate, imagination, luck, God...The greatest prophet on earth can give men no more than a watchword, and the vaguer the watchword the greater the prophet." "I can't explain it; you wouldn't understand. That means you haven't got one to show." "If I can't understand, what d'you expect of that poor fellow and his blockheaded mate? And what about all the other Anagnostides in the world" Have you only got more darkness to show them? They've managed pretty well up to now; they have children, and even grandchildren. God makes them deaf or blind, and they say: 'God be praised!' they feel at home in their misery. So let them be and say nothing." "That man has not been to school, I thought, and his brains have not been perverted. He has had all manner of experiences; his mind is open and his heart has grown bigger, without his losing one ounce of his primitive boldness. All the problems which we find so complicated or insoluble he cuts through as if with a sword like Alexander the Great cutting the Gordian knot." "We educated people are just empty-headed birds of the air." "I was happy, I knew that. While experiencing happiness, we have difficulty in being conscious of it. Only when the happiness is past and we look back on it do we suddenly realize - sometimes with astonishment - how happy we have been." "Don't calculate, boss. Leave your figures alone, smash the blasted scales, shut up your grocer's shop, I tell you. Now's the time you're going to save or to lose your soul." "The fundamental needs of man - food, drink, women and dance - were never exhausted or dulled in his robust and eager body." "Seeing as how I have no time-limit clause in my contract with life, I let the brakes off when I get to the most dangerous slopes. The life of man is a road with steep rises and dips. All sensible people use their brakes. But - and this is where, boss, maybe I show what I'm made of - I did away with my brakes altogether a long time ago, because I'm not at all scared of a jolt...Day and night, I go full steam ahead, doing just what I like; so much the worse if I fold up and get smashed to pieces. What have I got to lose? Nothing. Even if I do take it easy, won't I end up just the same? Of course I will! So let's scorch along!" "You do miracles, if you concentrate your mind on one thing and only one." "What do you care, boss? It's like a flea in a haystack...Take the bone and don't worry about who threw it down to you. Is it tasty? Is there any flesh on it? Those are the questions to ask." "The idea's everything. Have you faith? Then a splinter from an old door becomes a sacred relic. Have you no faith? Then the whole Holy Cross itself becomes an old doorpost to you." "Nowadays I say this man is a good fellow, that one's a bastard. They can be Greeks or Bulgars or Turks, it doesn't matter. Is he good? Or is he bad? That's the only thing I ask nowadays. And as I grow older - I'd swear this on the last crust I eat - I feel I shan't even go on asking that! Whether a man's good or bad, I'm sorry for him, for all of 'em. The sight of a man just rends my insides, even if I act as though I don't care a damn! There he is, poor devil, I think; he also eats and drinks and makes love and is frightened, whoever he is: he has his God and his devil just the same, and he'll peg out and lie as stiff as a board beneath the ground and be food for worms, just the same. Poor devil! We're all brothers! All worm meat!" "It's all because of doing things by halves, saying things by halves, being good by halves, that the world is in the mess it's in today. Do things properly by God! One good knock for each nail and you'll win through! God hates a halfdevil then times more than an archdevil!" "Would God bother to sit over the earthworms and keep count of everything they do? And get angry and storm and fret himself silly because one went astray with the female earthworm next door or swallowed a mouthful of meat on Good Friday? Bah! Get away with you all you soup-swilling priests! Bah!" "That is what a real man is like, I thought, envying Zorba's sorrow. A man with warm blood and solid bones, who lets real tears run down his cheeks when he is suffering; and when he is happy he does not spoil the freshness of his joy by running it through the fine sieve of metaphysics." "During all those years you've been burning yourself up consuming their black books of magic, you must have chewed over about fifty tons of paper! What did you get out of them?" "I've stopped thinking all the time of what happened yesterday. And stopped asking myself what's going to happen tomorrow. What's happening today, this minute, that's what I care about. It say: 'What are you doing at this moment, Zorba?' 'I'm sleeping.' 'Well, sleep well.' 'What are you doing at this moment, Zorba?' 'I'm kissing a woman.' 'Well, kiss her well, Zorba! And forget all the rest while you're doing it; there's nothing else on earth, only you and her! Get on with it!'" "One night on a snow-covered Macedonian mountain a terrible wind arose. It shook the little hut where I had sheltered and tried to tip it over. But I had shored it up and strengthened it. I was sitting alone by the fire, laughing at and taunting the wind. 'You won't get into my little hut, brother! I shan't open the door to you. You won't put my fire out; you won't tip my hut over!' In these few words of Zorba's I understood how men should behave and what tone they should adopt when addressing powerful but blind necessity. 'You won't get into my should! I shan't open the door to you! You won't put my fires out; you won't tip me over.'" "Happiness is doing your duty, and the harder the duty the greater the happiness." "Luckless man has raised what he thinks is an impassable barrier round his poor little existence. He takes refuge there and tries to bring a little order and security into his life. A little happiness. Everything must follow the beaten track, the sacrosanct routine, and comply with safe and simple rules. Inside this enclosure, fortified against the fierce attacks of the unknown, his petty certainties, crawling about like centipedes, go unchallenged. There is only one formidable enemy, mortally feared and hated: the Great Certainty. Now, this Great Certainty had penetrated the outer walls of my existence and was ready to pounce upon my should...All these messages, I thought, are born out of our own inner anxiety, and in our sleep assume the brilliant garb of a symbol. But we ourselves are the ones who create them...the terrible enemy who had penetrated the outer walls had been held in check by the second line of defense round my soul." "Forever! That's it - forever. What you've just said about meeting again, and building our monastery, all that is what you tell a sick man to put him on his feet. I don't accept it. I don't want it." "No, you're not free. The string you're tied to is perhaps no longer than other people's. That's all. You're on a long piece of string, boss; you come and go, and think you're free, but you never cut the string in two. And when people don't cut that string...if a man doesn't break the string, tell me, what flavor is left in life? The flavor of camomile, weak camomile tea! Nothing like rum - that makes you see life inside out!" "All that Zorba said was true. As a child I had been full of mad impulses, superhuman desires, I was not content with the world. Gradually, as time went by, I grew calmer. I set limits, separated the possible from the impossible, the human from the divine, I held my kite tightly, so that it should not escape."

Người đọc Stefan Van từ Terzone RI, Italy

Người dùng coi những cuốn sách này là thú vị nhất trong năm 2017-2018, ban biên tập của cổng thông tin "Thư viện Sách hướng dẫn" khuyến cáo rằng tất cả các độc giả sẽ làm quen với văn học này.